What Dreams May Come
by Arwen-Weasley428
Summary: The Trio's 7th and final year...what will go down? what will happen to voldemort?... RHR
1. Darkened Dreams

Snape gave his wand a flick and once again, as they had been doing for the past seven years of Harry's life, instructions for another difficult potion appeared on the board. Harry set out the needed ingredients for the potion when his scar gave a throbbing twinge, as it had been doing the entire summer and the few weeks since term had began. He grasped at it, but, as fast as the pain had come, it was gone.  
  
"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked nervously. Ever since their 5th year, Ron had always sounded worried whenever Harry had had an obvious stitch of pain in his scar. "Yes.. yes, I'm fine...just.." Harry muttered for what had felt to be at least the millionth time in these past few weeks. But there was something about the feeling that Harry had inside of him. It did not feel as though he was just having another throb upon his forehead. This feeling was different- it had seemed so much like a reality Harry was about to face, seemed as if the dungeon around him was beginning to lose its importance. It felt as if the reality and meaning of life was finally coming clear.  
  
"He's.. he's.. here." Harry said in a loud, echoing voice that seemed so unlike his own. The dull talk around him faded, as did Harry's clear view of the room. Everything was slowly becoming a blur and Harry couldn't distinguish anything around him. He fell off his stool onto the cold stone floor. The room suddenly went entirely silent; it was the worst silence Harry had ever heard. "What the... Potter, what are you on about?" said a sneering voice that unmistakably belonged to Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Potter?" said the voice of Severus Snape.  
  
"Potter?" he whispered.  
  
But this time, Snape's voice was not nearly as accusing as usual. On the contrary, it was nothing like it had ever been before. It almost sounded as if- yes, there was no other word for it- worried.  
  
"He's here. Voldemort..." Harry bellowed again, no apparent control over what he was saying, yet his mind was panicking. What's going on? What's happening? He wanted to shout. But the thought were confined to his mind.  
  
"Harry?" said Ron's distant voice. It shook with every syllable. "Harry? What are you talking about? I.. you... you  
  
can't be Harry... can you?"  
  
The room went silent for a moment except for a faint whispering in the farther end of the classroom. A high pitched, blood chilling scream met the class's ears. Harry heard several people gasp. Then, Harry abruptly had a freezing feeling rising in his chest. No, not again.. not now... please.. Harry thought. Harry knew who that scream belonged to. "NO!" he shouted. He had his own voice, but the next moment, the frozen feeling was sinking into his lungs and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Another loud, tormented voice screamed louder than Harry had ever heard it before.  
  
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"  
  
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now...." cackled Lord Voldemort.  
  
The vision of this horrible scene was flashing thorough Harry's mind. "Not Harry! Please, no, take me, kill me instead-!" Harry regained his breathe and his heart felt as though it was going to rip through his chest. The visions carried on and a blinding green light consumed the outline of his mother. Everything went blank, and a new memory lit up his brain. The snake- like face of Lord Voldemort was drawing nearer towards him. Harry felt, in this memory, as though a huge invisible hand was curving his spine ruthlessly forward, and he heard loud, echoing laughs of circling Death Eaters. The pressure and pain lifted from his back. "And now you face me, like a man... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...." Harry could faintly hear people crying, as though they were miles away. He could feel the heat of people around him, outside of the horrifying memories inside of his head. Trembling, the visions grew clearer in his mind, so he could not focus on anything else. "..prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry... come out and play, then... it will be quick... it might even be  
  
painless... I would not know.. I have never died...." The chilling feeling inside him was quickly replaced by white hot anger . He was shaking with the hate of seven years, ever since he had been unveiled to the truth of his parents' death.  
  
"Harry! HARRY! Stop, Harry, please!" came the pleading voice of Hermione Granger. "Ron! What's happening?" she cried as another horribly memory came zooming into Harry's mind like a freight train. "Come on! You can do better than that!" barked his late godfather.  
  
This was what Harry had been dreading. Two years had passed since Harry had experienced contact with his godfather, and now he was re-living his last moments with him. But this time, it all appeared in slow motion, and it felt as if the last of Harry's happiness was being drawn out of him.... "No!" yelled Harry, but no sound escaped his lips. He tried to make his mind's-self move from the place in the Department of Mysteries, to stop Bellatrix Lestrange from doing what Harry had been dreading. Stop her! Stop her! He tried to yell again. Harry then saw a bright red spell escape Bellatrix's wand and soar the few feet between her and Sirius. The spell hit Sirius square in the chest. He fell over stiff, with wide eyes and a light smile still on his face. "NOOO!" Ron's deep voice distantly shouted. But before Harry could react to the ending of this memory, another began to replace it. This time, however, no scene was portrayed, only voices. "CRUCIO!" shrieked the unfortunately familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. More tortured screams and moans echoed through the now hot, damp dungeon, though the horrible sounds did not come from Harry's fellow classmates or potions master. "Now, have you learned your lesson, Longbottom?" she asked in her falsely sweet voice. No! It can't be! No... no... Harry thought, but was interrupted. "Mum?" asked a voice from the past. Not since his 5th year had Harry heard that voice. Since the night of Sirius' death, Neville Longbottom had become quite the opposite of the boy he had arrived at Hogwarts as- a short, round faced, nervous, forgetful boy. Since that very night, he emerged from the Department of Mysteries, however, Neville had become nothing short of a hero.  
  
Today, Neville stood tall and proud. The round boyish face had gone, and had been replaced by a strong, courageous, more grown up expression. The only thing that remained of the young face was the dark, deep, honest eyes. "Mum? Dad?" Neville slowly whispered in his fifteen year old voice. The room slid back into focus. Harry rolled over onto his back, and immediately felt Ron helping him sit up. Harry's hands automatically reached around the floor for his glasses. As his hands found them, so did another's. Harry looked up, and met the eyes of Severus Snape. "Here you go, Harry." He said in that quiet unlikely voice. Harry put on his glasses slowly. One lens was cracked, but Harry could still see a room full of pale, slightly wet faces encircling him. Over in the opposite corner of the dungeon, Harry saw Pansy Parkinson wipe a tear away from her face.  
  
"What.. what happened?" asked Hermione quietly. She too wiped a tear from her eye.  
  
"Shhh. It's okay. It's..." Ron whispered.  
  
He pulled Hermione closer towards him, but Harry clearly noticed that Ron, too, was shaking. 


	2. Back To The Days

A/N: This chapter is really short, uninteresting and quite uneventful. But i promise there's lots of juicy stuff next chapter. But review anyway, because reviewing is cool!!  
  
"A week. An entire week. Why can't we figure this out!" Harry slammed his fists down in enormous frustration. It had been a week since the tortured memories, and still, there had been no sign of Dumbledore, no sign of relief from this epic pain, nothing to calm his nerve. But most of all, there was no explanation of why the visions of death, fear and destruction had visited him on that damp September day.  
  
"It's alright Harry! We... we will figure this out, everything out. I promise." Ginny comforted. Her words were simple, yet calming. Harry set his face in his palms and sighed.  
  
"But when", he muttered, "when." Ginny took his hand and smiled.  
  
"I'm here with you, Harry."  
  
"Thanks, Ginny. I... just..." Harry rose from his seat at the Gryffindor table, automatically followed by Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Harry, mate, you... you don't have to do this. You don't have to go today! McGonagall said you could have as much time as you needed! You can.. can go back to the common room! I can go-"  
  
"No, Ron. I need to go back."  
  
"Harry's right, Ron. He needs to catch up." Hermione said.  
  
As the entered the Charms classroom, tiny Professor Flitwick greeted Harry with a warm, welcome hello. "Hello, Professor." Harry tried to sound cheerful. The trio took their usual seats in the third row. "What's this about? Notes on Memory Charms? This is third year level." Harry said in surprise. Neville, who had just taken a seat beside Harry, leaned over and whispered "Review. We've been doing it all week. Welcome back, Harry." An hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were crossing the lawns towards Herbology when a question crossed Harry's mind.  
  
"Is it just Charms doing review?" he asked aloud.  
  
"No, actually. Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration," answered Neville, counting the classes off on his fingers.  
  
"Even Hagrid's bringing the flobberworms back to study."  
  
"Never lowered the bar for one student before now, eh?" Harry smiled. Hermione answered the rhetorical question almost too quickly.  
  
"What?" she exclaimed, "They're now 'lowering the bar', Harry! They're... reviewing!"  
  
"Well, whatever it is, I hope it goes like this all year." laughed Ron. They passed Hagrid's garden, where he was teaching a group of 6th year Gryffindors, whom all waved at Harry. He smiled genuinely, he was glad to be back. 


	3. Memories

It was late Saturday night, and Harry, Ron, and Neville were all sitting around the common room hearth. Ginny was curled up on the chair Harry was leaning against, and Hermione, apparently asleep with her head resting on Ron's shoulder. Empty bottles of butterbeer were on the table, and laughter was upon they boys' faces.  
  
"I wish she didn't do this every night- my arm falls asleep every time!" Ron smiled, nonetheless, down at Hermione.  
  
"If it weren't for her though, you'd never finish your homework!" Harry pointed to the homework piled upon the table next to the butterbeer bottles.  
  
"Yeah, well, if it weren't for me" Ron said, "you'd still be chasing that prat, Cho, and not my sister!"  
  
"Well, if it weren't for me, Ron, you'd never have noticed Hermione was a girl!" joked Neville.  
  
"Oh shut up, Neville!" Ron said, his ears reddening.  
  
"C'mon, Ron, you know it's true, admit it!" Harry persuaded, realizing Ron had never admitted to this.  
  
"Well, I.. I guess I'd kinda liked her.. last year. So, what's the big deal!" Harry and Neville exchanged glances and began laughing hysterically.  
  
Hermione's eyes opened quite quickly. "Shhh!" she said sitting up, frightening Ron so badly he jumped.  
  
"You'll wake Ginny!" she whispered. "Were you awake?!" Ron said, alarmed.  
  
Hermione was the one to snicker now. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
Ron mumbled something about changing and ran up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.  
  
"Were you asleep, Hermione?" asked Neville, apparently impressed by her cunning sleeping act.  
  
"I think I dozed off once or twice, but- I strung two and two together." She giggled, "What time is it anyway?"  
  
"Eleven thirty-one." Harry said, glancing at his watch.  
  
"I should go to bed, it is late." Hermione yawned, stretching and looking at Ginny. "Should I wake her?"  
  
"No, I can get her later." Harry said, looking at a sleeping Ginny behind him.  
  
"Should I tell Ron you're going in?"  
  
"Sure." Harry quietly climbed the stairs and opened the door. Ron stood in his pajamas (which were still maroon, still six inches too short, and still had the gold "R" upon the chest pocket), looking at a picture.  
  
"Hermione's going in. She wants to say goodnight."  
  
Ron walked out of the room, dropping the photograph. Harry picked it up, turning it over to reveal a picture he knew well. It had been taken last winter in Hogsmeade by Colin Creevey. The picture had eleven occupants: Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Angelina, Fred, George, Lupin, and Hagrid. They were all waving and smiling brightly, bundled up against the snow surrounding them all. Harry sighed. He missed the moments when he had hardly a care in the world. When his times were spent having fun with friends, playing Quidditch, listening to Lupin's stories of the Marauders, and only the occasional thought of Sirius. Sirius Harry thought, this is when I'd need you the most. I need to talk to you. Almost as though his mind had been read, Harry noticed a letter on top of his bedside cabinet. Picking it up, Harry read the familiar writing upon the parchment:  
  
This is a two way mirror. I've got the other.  
  
If you need to speak to me, just say my name  
  
Into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be  
  
Able to talk in yours. James and I used to use  
  
Them when we were in separate detentions.  
  
It was the last thing ever written directly to Harry from Sirius, other than the will, of course. Maybe that was what kept Harry going since his godfather's death- Harry was never going to go back to the Dursley's again. In the will, Sirius had left Grimmauld Place to Harry, and since Harry was legally an adult now, it was his to move into. The door opened and in walked Neville and Ron. To no one's surprise, Ron departed from the room with an airy "goodnight" and lightly closing the hangings around his bed. Neville rolled his eyes as he changed into his pajamas and ascended into his four-poster. Long after, Harry lie down to a dreamless sleep. As usual, Harry woke the next morning before his fellow 7th year Gryffindors and headed down to breakfast. As he entered the Great Hall, he found that there were more people there than he would have expected at that hour. He sat down at the table across from Ginny and Hermione, who were both looking equally excited about something.  
  
"What's up?" Harry asked.  
  
"Oh... nothing." Hermione said.  
  
"Really now?" Harry sarcastically asked, catching an air of Hermione her rarely saw.  
  
"What're you doing up this early, anyway?" Ginny asked Harry honestly, handing him a piece of toast.  
  
"I'm always up this early, Ginny. Now what's you're excuse?"  
  
"No reason... lovely day, isn't it?" Harry suspected something now. "Really, what's going on? You look like you've graduated early, Hermione." Ginny whispered something to Hermione, and got a nod in return, which was apparently enough to let Harry in on whatever they were hiding.  
  
"Okay, Harry. I'm, erm... not supposed to say, so, don't tell Ron, I want him to find out tomorrow, in the paper..."  
  
"What! What!" Harry persisted.  
  
"Dad's Minister of Magic!" Ginny burst out.  
  
"WHAT!" Harry exploded. "You're kidding!"  
  
"No! I'm not! Everything was settled last night! He's the Minister, Harry!" She jumped up and grabbed him in a rib-cracking hug.  
  
"Just remember! Don't-tell-Ron!" Hermione warned.  
  
"I won't! I won't! I promise! This'll improve his keeping skills, this will!" All three of them rolled with laughter. The next 24 hours were full of ambiguous elation. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny could only just look at Ron without breaking into huge grins. "What? What's so funny?" Ron asked blindly. Most of Harry's day was spent with Ginny, teaching her chasing skills. Hermione excuse was far better and made it easier to avoid Ron- she was researching elf rights in the library. That night as Harry and Ron climbed into bed, Ron snickered coolly.  
  
"I know what you're hiding." "Oh? And what would that be?" Harry tried to sound authentic.  
  
"You want to move into Grimmauld Place with Ginny!" Harry snorted with laughter.  
  
"What!? You'd never let me do that! But no, that's not it, mate. Get to sleep. I 'spect you'll find out tomorrow." Ron frowned at being defeated and lay down in bed. "Why won't you tell me?" Harry smiled and closed his bed hangings. Ron was in for a true surprise. 


	4. Memories part 2

"HARRY! HARRY, WAKE UP! HARRY, YOU PRAT, WAKE UP! HARRY! HARRY HARRY!" Ron ran into the dormitory full speed and thrust a copy of the Daily Prophet into Harry's face. Harry put on his glasses and read the heading.  
  
ARTHUR WEASLEY:  
  
NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC  
  
Beneath the title was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beaming in front of the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was holding a plaque bearing his signature, dozens of others from the Wizengamot, and a notarization of their approval. Before Harry had a chance to read the column, Ginny and Hermione came bounding into the room, laughing as they had yesterday morning. "My dad's the Minister! My dad's the Minister!" Ginny and Ron chanted until Seamus, Dean, Neville, Colin and Denis Creevey had joined in on the celebration.  
  
Going down to breakfast that morning was an eventful trip. The first task of the day was getting Hermione out of boys' dormitories long enough for Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville to change. Getting through the common room was another task altogether. Hands, people, and voices shot out of nowhere, all wanting to congratulate and speak to Ginny and Ron. As Harry, Ginny, and Hermione attempted to pull Ron away from the crowd and out through the portrait hole, Lupin passed the corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Not turning into James, now is he, Harry?" he laughed.  
  
"Only a little!" Harry laughed in reply.  
  
When the four of them finally sat down to breakfast, Ron gasped in delight. "Oi! Harry!" he jabbed his finger towards the Head Table. There, sitting in his headmaster's chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry's face broke into a smile as Dumbledore's did the same in Harry's direction. Things we looking up, even more on top of the Weasley's news. Just then, Draco Malfoy passed the Gryffindor table looking sulky. "Why the long face, Malfoy? You should be happy, you know! I mean, with Mr... oh, ahem, Minister Weasley looking over your father to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble, Dumbledore's back and looking over you to make sure you don't cause any trouble...so, enlighten us dear Draco and tell us why you look so sad." Harry smirked as Draco went on silently. 


End file.
